


Of Hearts and Cars

by PeachGO3



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Closeted Character, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Heart Disease, M/M, Making Out, Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGO3/pseuds/PeachGO3
Summary: Stephen’s car is broken, and so the lone med school student meets resident bad boy Tony, mechanic at the local autoshop – and suddenly Stephen is all about those big doe eyes and sass. – Lovely AU byHogwartsToAlexandria.tumblr masterpost
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	Of Hearts and Cars

__

_According to the American Heart Association, heart disease is the number one cause of death in both men and women; one in four deaths is caused by a heart disease. In the past, heart disease and myocardial infarction (MI) has been associated with men, which has led to a misunderstanding within the public that women are not at risk. This has further led to an oversimplified description of symptoms associated –_

Stephen is busy skimming through the stuff he may or may not need for the cardiovascular disease exam when a female voice disturbs his rattling mind: “Hello.”

He looks up to find a blond student with a book pressed to her chest that apparently did not fit in either of her two shoulder bags. She smiles. Stephen knows her face from some class, but he can’t possibly remember which, he’s too busy concentrating on the really important things.

“Hello,” he replies mechanically.

“Getting ready for your internship?” she asks. Stephen shifts, he wishes she would sit down or leave, one of the two, because he got nervous with her just standing in front of his table.

“No, it’s for the exam,” he says and adjusts his glasses. “Usually I do all reading at home, but this book is not available for borrowing, so…”

She takes a look at the book in question and mock-frowns. “Of course it’s not, it’s a standard read. If anyone could borrow it, all the students from this class would scramble to get it into their hands,” she says.

Stephen blinks. “Do you want it?”

“No, I, um…” She strokes some hair behind her ear. “I wanted to wish you good luck for your internship with Doctor Wong. I won’t be able to do that for another two semesters or so…”

“You’re not the only one,” Stephen argues.

“I know, only you can do it this early,” she says with a nod. “I also heard you’re already writing the essays for the fourth semester courses and such. If I were you I’d lose track of all the examination office’s enrollments.”

“I am perfectly fine.”

She nods, and then she looks at him for a little longer. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” she asks.

Stephen breathes in to answer, but the woman is faster: “I’m Christine Palmer. You know, the one you were assigned to work with on the lecture earlier this month?”

Oh. “Sorry,” Stephen says and looks down. “I thought it was easier to do it alone. And faster, more efficient. You’ll get a good grade, promise.”

“I don’t have any doubt about that. I just wish you would’ve told me that you would hand something in without ever meeting to work on it with me,” she says, nods, and finally leaves, so that Stephen has the nerve to breathe properly again. His foot taps rapidly beneath the library table. On some level, he really feels sorry for ditching the teamwork like that, but on the other hand he is still glad he did everything on his own – it has been to avoid trouble and unnecessary endeavor after all. Dear Christine may dislike that she was being left out, but Stephen is sure she would’ve disliked working with him much more.

She has been right in another aspect though: Stephen still needs to enroll for the fourth semester essay, but he could do that online tonight. Fed up with college noises and library smell, he packs his things and leaves. He leaves the book opened on the table.

* * *

Lamborghinis are _such fun_. They‘re fast, they’re loud, they’re impressive. When one passes by, everybody looks, and the driver still enjoys an amazing level of privacy. And if we are honest, nobody cared about the driver, really, they just marveled at the black shine, the smooth wheels, the deep roar maybe.

Stephen knows damn well it’s a bit much for a med school student, but he has no remorse or anything like that. This car is his safe space, an armor of dark metal with a brand name on it. He loves this car, which makes the warning light all the more devastating.

It’s the yellow one with the wrench.

“What the-”

The lights turn green, and the cars behind him honk angrily. Stephen clutches the wheel with sweaty hands, but his car won’t drive any faster than five miles per hour. “Come on,” he curses, trying to pull over as soon as he can. Even restarting doesn’t do the trick.

Five miles an hour.

The internship with Doctor Wong was starting next week – in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, and he cannot go there with five miles an hour. Suddenly, all strength oozes out of his body, his cramped hands leave the wheel and sink into his lap as endless streams of cars pass Stephen by.

This needed to get fixed.

* * *

The joint is located on a street corner and is anything but welcoming. This is the single most run-down autoshop Stephen has ever seen, and he instantly thinks about leaving on the spot. Dirt and mechanical components everywhere. Flickering lights. This establishment’s smell is a terrible mixture of oil and cigarettes that should probably alarm Stephen even more, but he tries to collect himself and steps away from the car.

Fumbling with his sweaty hands, he dares to look around. Except for the radio that played ACDC on a wooden workbench, and steaming hydraulics, no sound whatsoever indicated that anybody was here. What did Google Maps say, ‘Stark’? Stephen calls hello in hopes that someone would answer.

No one does.

Stephen clears his throat but decides he’d rather wait silently than make a foul of himself by shouting. Thus, he quietly walks around, taking a look at the other two cars in the shop, an Audi and some Japanese car, both silver and older models. The sounds of the streets sound distant in here, and the courtyard through which Stephen came shines the last rays of today’s sun. A cat strolls about and runs when the hydraulics near the exit steam loudly.

Stephen is so caught up in his daydreams that he flinches when a voice asks, “What’s popping?”

He looks up to find a tiny man in a tank top, cleaning his hands with a towel that involuntarily makes Stephen recite every hygiene regulation he has ever read in his life.

“Not you, I suppose,” the man says as he looks Stephen down.

“What?”

“What’s the matter, sunshine?” the man rephrases and adds, “How can I help you?”

“You’re the owner of this…?” Stephen asks with a look around with caution, but to his horror Stark doesn’t complete the sentence. He just looks at him with fierce smugness.

“This…”

“I am, tell me what’s wrong.”

Stephen breathes in and straightens his back. “The yellow light went on,” he says eloquently as the man’s eyes drop to the car. He whistles and beams with excitement. He turns to Stephen again, totally disregarding the problem he has just stated, to say, “That’s yours? Not bad.”

“Yeah, thanks-”

“How does someone like you get such a whip? Daddy let you drive with his toy?”

“No, it’s mine,” Stephen says with determination. “And the yellow light went on, the one with the wrench, and after that it would only drive super slowly.” He adjusts his glasses as he continues to babble, “That has never happened before, I honestly don’t know what I did wrong. It just happened, like that, without any premonition.”

“Relax,” Stark says, dirty towel still in his hands. “Probably just something in the engine’s electronic systems. I’ll check everything and get her back on track, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” Stephen breathes, relieved that this conversation worked itself toward its goal. The man looked overworked, but he was attractive. Stephen swallowed.

“Huracán Coupé. That’s an amazing car,” the man says, dragging the conversation in unnecessary fashion.

“I know,” Stephen sighs politely, “I like it, too. I like it a whole lot, and I’d appreciate if it drives again.”

“Hey, calm down,” the man says and steps towards Stephen, raising two hands in a calming gesture (and with them, the dirty towel). “You look like someone who could use a cup of coffee. Want some?”

“No,” Stephen utters and rubs his hands. He’s still sweating, oh God.

But Stark looks fascinated, his eyes are glued to Stephen. His lips part for a moment ere he says, “Why are you so nervous? I don’t bite. Except if people want me to, y’know, I don’t kinkshame.”

Stephen sucks in a breath and looks to the ground, trying to think of something polite to answer to this inappropriate behavior, but he must look as though he has panic attack, because Stark returns to him and quickly says, “Hey, sorry.” He smiles briefly. “In all honesty though, maybe you should do breathing exercises, you know, or Pilates lessons, or yoga or something. I know a lady down the street who does the best Thai massages, if you know what I mean, I think her name’s Yen or so, great thumbs, that lady-”

Stephen dart upwards somewhere during this shower of words that is accompanied by a totally relaxed face, shining with big brown eyes, in contrast to the damp black hair –

“- and my offer still stands, y’know, I’ll fetch you a coffee from next door if you want me to.”

Stephen blinks, but doesn’t answer.

Stark smirks and turns around to the car. “So, sunshine,” he sings. “I’ll have her ready the day after tomorrow, say, three in the afternoon. That okay?”

Stephen blinks as Stark circles the car. He looks gorgeous. “Yeah, of course,” he breathes.

“Great. I’ll take fifty as a deposit, and then… probably five hundred more when you come and pick her up,” Stark ponders. “But I can’t say anything more accurate until I take a look at her engine.”

“Sure,” Stephen says. He watches Stark inspect the car for a few seconds longer ere rushing to the driver’s seat to get his wallet from the bag and take out fifty dollars (while asking himself if that makes him look incredibly uncool in this environment, and he decides to put his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans from now on, because it looks decidedly more masculine).

They say goodbye soon afterwards. Stephen leaves for the subway to take him back home, where he microwaves himself a dinner to eat while he reads for college. It feels weird to leave something so personal as a car with total stranger, but it’s also nice, somehow. Going directly home without the detour through the underground garage, and the shop owner also seemed very nice. Very pretty, and not much older than Stephen himself, for sure.

Are all autoshop visits like that? For all people? Is everyone that flustered at car mechanics with big brown eyes and dirty towels in their hands? Stephen does have problems talking to people, like with girls, but that was different.

Pondering, he puts his spoon down. Does he have _a crush_?

“Okay, enough,” he says too himself, drops everything and goes to take a shower – but even there, he can’t stop thinking about the eyes, the arms, the tiny but muscular frame. The way the guy has looked at him, fascinated. What he could do to him – going down on him –

It’s bad. But totally normal, isn’t it? Maybe just a bit too much. With all this fantasizing, Stephen almost forgets to sign up for the exam before midnight.

* * *

The main building’s corridors are filled with people who chat about the exams. Today is this semester’s last tutorial, Stephen remembers that when he spots Christine, the blond girl, in the corridor. She sits on a bench staring at her phone, and then she lowers it with a frustrated expression. Their eyes meet.

“Hello,” Stephen says and steps over to her. She lights up. “Morning, Doc.”

“What?” Stephen asks, smiling. “I’m not, not yet.”

“I know,” she says. “But isn’t your last name Strange?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I mean,” Christine says with a smirk. “ _Doctor Strange_ , that just sounds like you were meant to become a doctor.”

“Thanks?” Stephen says unsurely. Christine chuckles and looks at her phone a last time while Stephen collects himself and utters, “I apologize for yesterday. And for the lecture and all, that wasn’t appropriate of me.”

“What? Oh, yeah. No worries,” Christine says, sounding genuine. Then she mock-frowns. “Sweet of you to apologize tough. Accepted. Water under the bridge.”

“Glad to hear that.”

Then the freshmen leave the room and the tutorial is about to start. Christine waves and says goodbye to Stephen when it’s over, and now he realizes how great it feels to leave on even terms. He also realizes another thing – that he was never really nervous around girls like other guys were. He just sucked at conversation.

When other guys say they are nervous around girls, they mean what Stephen has experienced yesterday, at that autoshop.

Here he is again, thinking about the car mechanic. It _is_ a crush. Fuck.

* * *

Stephen returns to Stark’s Autoshop the next day at half past two, because he figures he could spend a few minutes with the man if the next appointment is only at three o’clock. This time, he catches Stark in the middle of work, under his Lamborghini. Blue ripped jeans stick out from beneath it, and Stephen can see two strong arms working, he hears equipment fall onto the ground, and the radio still plays ACDC.

He decides to watch for a few seconds more ere calling attention to himself by moving his feet loudly, in addition to clearing his throat.

Stark doesn’t hear him.

What does one do now? Walk up to him and say hello? What if he startled him? Waving his arms wearily, Stephen decides to stay where he is, rocking on his feet like a grandpa.

Two ACDC songs later, Stark reappears from under the car, and as soon as his eyes spot Stephen, he smiles, and Stephen looks away.

“Hey, there you are. How long have you been there? Sorry, didn’t hear you.”

“I just came in here, actually,” Stephen lies with a grimace.

“Great,” Stark sings and pulls himself up and _by God_ , this man is ripped. Why does he work without a shirt? Because he’s _shameless_ , that’s why, all right. Your musculus rectus abdominis looks fantastic, Stephen thinks and can’t stop himself from blush-grinning at his own shitty pick-up line.

“Good. You look better than two days ago, did you start Pilates?” Stark jokes.

“Err, no,” Stephen smiles.

“I wouldn’t tell my car mechanic either,” Stark says deadpan and walks to his workbench to fetch a bottle of water, and Stephen looks away just in time before he starts drinking from it.

Good Lord.

“So,” Stark begins, “about your lovely Huracán – it was a cable in her electronic system, but my supplier had a fitting one.” He sniffs with a smirk. “Lambos are not my usual clientele, y’know?”

“Google Maps said you were excellent,” Stephens says truthfully.

“Five stars, I hope?”

“You’ll get five from me,” Stephens says with a coy smile and wonders – is this flirting? Stark returns the smile, and his lips part _that way_ again, looking almost obscene. He tilts his head in a fast motion and grabs that dirty towel to wipe his neck. “Y’know,” he says, “I have done some fine tuning as well. Just some things that caught my eye.”

“Thank you,” Stephen says.

“We’re at three hundred,” Stark says and walks up to him.

“Three hundred only?” Stephen asks, like an idiot. “That’s… cheap.”

“I know,” Stark says. “But as I said, it was only a minor thing, so…”

“What about that fine tuning you mentioned?” Stephen asks, desperately trying to think of it as a mechanics thing and not about dialysis parameters.

“Nah,” Stark says and sniffs, “you didn’t ask for that, so how could I let you pay me for it now? Doughnut?” He grabs a carton from the table next to them and holds it out for Stephen.

“No, thanks.”

“Don’t want to? Shame. I bought them just for you,” Stark says with shining eyes and that damned smirk, and Stephen just about loses it for a millisecond. This is flirting, his brain screams, this is flirting. _You and a guy are flirting. A guy you crush on._

“I know,” Stark says when Stephen just stares at the box. “You probably don’t want to take something from a guy whose name you don’t even know, right, baby boy?” He puts the box away and holds out his hand instead. “I’m Tony,” he says softly.

Stephen takes it, oh God, it’s warm – “I-I’m Stephen. Stephen Strange.”

“Strange?” Stark repeats, shaking the hand with just the right amount of pressure. “That’s one of those names that’re either a blessing or a curse.”

“It is,” Stephen chuckles quietly, trying to stop his hand from screaming at the loss of touch when Tony lets him go while simultaneously avoiding to look at those abs. “A classmate of mine says it’s the perfect name for a neurosurgeon though,” he murmurs instead.

Tony tilts his head, looking even more intrigued. He’s very close now, but Stephen really doesn’t mind. “Doctor Strange, damn, that _is_ perfect, they’ve got a point there,” he says.

“It’s only my second semester though, so I’m hardly a doctor,” Stephen replies.

“Med school student Stephen Strange. And his Lambo,” Tony sings. “This keeps getting better.”

“How so?” Stephen blurts out, and it hits the mark, because Tony backs off a little, smiling with thin lips. “I don’t know,” he says, “it just sounds very interesting. All of it.”

The air has changed. Stephen smiles back. “I’ll take that doughnut now,” he says.

They sit down in the backseat of the car and talk about work and college and the internship – and cars, while eating doughnuts (who cares about the seats, really). Tony still has no shirt on, and Stephen has, after several minutes of having been cool, started sweating because of it. Once in a while, he gazes down at the abs, only for a millisecond. How would they feel beneath his fingertips?

“So, Stephen Strange – you busy partying on weekends like all the students?” Tony asks.

“Sometimes,” Stephen says. “I’m not much of a party person, I suppose.”

“No? No girls to pick up?” Tony asks casually, and Stephen sucks in a breath. This is serious flirting, is it not? Hell, they’re sitting in his car’s backseat, with the stupid red blanket stored on it – but Tony has not made any comment about it, no. He just asked Stephen if he liked girls, didn’t he?

“Come on, tell me,” he says when Stephen doesn’t answer. “The girls must be after you, with such a car and such a smile.”

“What?” Stephen says softly, daring to look at Tony, only to find him gazing dreamily at him.

“You do have a very nice smile, doc, don’t sell yourself short.”

“Thanks,” Stephen utters, flushing furiously, oh God, his face is so hot – “I wouldn’t know, no one has told me before.”

“Liar,” Tony says in disbelief.

“Thank you, really,” Stephen says while trying to stay calm – this is reciprocation, is it not? Or is Stark only being polite? Is he gay? He _is_ gay, isn’t he?

It’s then when Tony’s phone rings, and he fishes for it from his back pocket. At first Stephen panics because he thinks Tony might get a text from someone else, possibly _for a date_ or something, but it’s just a reminder: “Sorry,” he says, “gotta go take my pills.”

“Ah,” Stephen says as Tony exits the car and watches him go to the workbench. From a shelf above it, Tony takes a small white box, but Stephen looks away. Looking feels too intimate.

“I should’ve set a reminder, too,” he says instead, just to avoid silence.

“Yeah? What for?”

“To enroll for an exam. I almost forgot it.” He laughs lightly.

“How come?” Tony asks and comes back. He enters the car and slightly smiles at Stephen as he does. He’s so close, and his tender gaze makes Stephen relax. “Don’t know,” he lies. _Because I have been thinking about you sucking me off._ “What do you take them for?” he asks. “If you want to talk about it, that is.”

“Ahh, the med school student,” Tony sings and starts avoiding Stephen’s eyes. There couldn’t be any clearer body language for ‘no, I don’t want to talk about it’, but he still says, “Something with my heart. Maybe you can lecture me about it, Houdini.”

“Houdini?” Stephen asks softly.

“Hm? Yeah,” Tony sniffs. “This blanket. Looks like a red cape.”

“Superman.”

“Nah, you’re more of the wizard type. Mysterious, y’know? Doctor Strange, the awesome wizard. Long lost cousin of Harry Potter.”

Stephen chuckles. “I see.” A pause. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I’m sorry,” he says. “For your heart.”

“Not your fault,” Tony says, trying to sound casual. _According to the American Heart Association, heart disease is the number one cause of death in both men and women._ This man is so precious, and suddenly, a fear of losing him washes through Stephen, out of nowhere. Ridiculous – wasn’t it? Stephen looks back, through the rear window. They are alone.

“Don’t you ought to tell me that I should stop smoking and take care and such?”

“Heart disease is a serious problem,” Stephen agrees.

“Yeah. Gotta be careful with that. Fragile little thing.”

“Tony?” Stephen asks out of nowhere, and Tony’s eyes dart up at him, shining brown. He shifts without taking them off Stephen. “Please,” he breathes, “please tell me that you wanna make out.”

Stephen laughs shakily. “Um… That was what I was about to ask, a-actually.”

“Oh, fuck, perfect,” is all Tony says before leaning in, catching Stephen’s face with two rough hands and – not quite kissing him, no, it’s more of a crashing and licking with the weight of a whole body behind it and a few desperate gasps in between.

Stephen pants. His first gay kiss, complete with the sugary taste of doughnuts, and sweat, and the backseat of his car. It’s gonna smell like this autoshop for a while, and maybe also like Tony Stark, he thinks. An intriguing prospect.

Cautiously, Stephen’s hands wander towards those abs as his lips are busy trying to keep up with Tony’s. His groin tightens with pleasure and tickling and want; it’s intoxicating. Tony ruffles his hair, he pushes his glasses into his face – Stephen lets out a quiet yelp.

Tony instantly pulls back to ask if he’s all right. Stephen nods, already out of breath, but Tony’s hand caressing his cheek relaxes him. “Sorry, I’m brash,” Tony whispers.

Stephen hums in disagreement, feeling they won’t continue for a while. “It’s okay, really, it’s just… I-I’ve never done that before, so-”

“Oh, fuck, I knew it,” Tony curses with a look of genuine regret in his beautiful eyes. For a millisecond Stephen thinks that he dislikes inexperienced guys, but Tony quickly clarifies: “I should’ve asked before, oh God, I’m sorry. I’ll go slower.”

“It’s okay,” Stephen says, laying his right hand on top of Tony’s as his left reaches out for the sweaty, dirty muscles spread out before him. “It’s okay, really, just – let me take off my glasses.”

“Right, right,” Tony chuckles, sounding… nervous? Excited? He licks his lips. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go lock the door so we won’t get distracted.”

“What?” Stephen chuckles.

“I’m closed at three on Saturdays anyway,” Tony says with a smug grin that is contrasted by the clumsy way he stumbles out of the car. Stephens laughs quietly and shifts to sit in a comfortable position, although by now he is so hard that it’s ridiculously difficult to do so.

Tony returns – and closes the car door behind him as he climbs inside. “Good,” Stephens whispers with a smile. He’s full of anticipation, he wants to kiss again, wants to finally touch those muscles, twitching –

“A Lambo full of doughnut crumbs – I’m fucking losing it,” Tony curses.

Stephen smiles at him and slightly opens his arms. Tony smirks with a shimmer in his eyes and leans in. This kiss is softer, it’s slower. Tony’s hands still cup Stephen’s cheek, his thumb rubs over it, and whatever Tony is doing, it makes Stephen work his mouth just perfect for their tongues to touch – the small smacking sounds send shivers down Stephen’s spine, right down to his toes that twitch in his shoes. His groin hurts, his hips start rolling. And his hands start moving. They descend, down from Tony’s broad shoulders to his chest, where they briefly encircle strong pecks, curious, ere continuing their adventure downwards. Light like feathers, they stroke over rock-hard abs.

Tony sighs into their kisses, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?

Stephen has moved his hands irregularly, but now he draws circles on Tony’s muscles, feels them twitch with excitement. Stephen leans in a bit more and strokes upwards, to the sensitive muscles on Tony’s sides, as he intensifies their touch. _Musculus obliquus externus abdominis._

It pulls a moan from Tony, one that Stephen is intrigued to hear again.

Tony starts kissing his neck while still ruffling his hair. “Mind taking that off?” he breathes when the white collar stops him from going down further. Stephen nods with a devout sounding hum and pries himself loose from Tony’s body, as much as he can on this backseat. When he reaches for the first button however, Tony grasps his hand. “Wait, I changed my mind,” he says and starts unbuttoning it himself, all the while sucking at Stephen’s neck, kissing deeper and deeper with every newly opened button, and Stephen thanks the Heavens that Tony is taking his time, because this is divine. He moans.

“Good,” Tony attests, and then moans himself, because Stephen has found his right nipple and starts rolling it between his fingers. Tony responds by closing his lips around Stephen’s nipple in turn, warm and wet, and _he sucks_ at it, ever so lightly, but it’s enough to make Stephen buck up his hips with a jolt.

“Fuck… oh, shit, sorry…”

“What’re you apologizing for, hm?” Tony asks. His lips are so hot against Stephen’s chest, it’s ridiculous. “Just tell me what you like.”

“That, what you did just now,” Stephen answers with more annoyance in his voice than he meant to. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Uhh, getting sassy, are we,” Tony sings and bites into the nipple. Stephen barely manages to suppress another moan; he presses his lips together furiously and tries to stabilize himself by putting an arm around the headrest, but it’s no use, he sinks onto his back, sighing, moaning, as Tony’s hot mouth travels all over his body and leaves desperation in all places he _doesn’t_ touch.

Tony’s small frame is between his legs now, practically lying on top of his raging erection, and Stephen breathes hard, trying to steady himself, but he’s too zealous – he strokes Tony’s face and slides his thumb inside the wet heat that is this mouth. Tony embraces the action, keeping his lips parted while circling the tip of Stephen’s thumb with his tongue.

Stephen groans, hips rolling to keep them from jerking, when he gently pulls his finger out and pushes it inside again, deeper this time, feeling Tony’s moan around it. He reaches downwards to twist Tony’s nipple as a means of thanking him, because that’s what being sexual like this is about, right? That both parties enjoy it.

It is as though Tony has read his mind, because he crawls fully on top of him now, breathing hard, but smiling. “Hey,” he says softly, cupping Stephen’s cheeks with both hands, but Stephen just frowns. “I need you,” he breathes, even though he clearly also needs a break.

“That was my observation as well,” Tony jokes with flushed cheeks and chuckles. “Which is why I want you to let me take care of you, all right? People say I’m good with my mouth, so maybe you’d like that?”

“Y-yes,” Stephen blurts out, swallowing. _You ARE good with your mouth, God, you’re divine, you’re so hot –_

“I mean it,” Tony says, labored. “Let me pamper you for a while without thinking about repaying a fucking favor or something.”

“Yes… understood.”

“All right. Relax,” Tony says and kisses him deeply. “See you in ten minutes,” he adds with a smirk.

“Ha,” is all Stephen can reply, because by now he’s pretty sure he would not be able to last ten minutes more if his fucking life depended on it.

Tony made quick work of his pants and pulled them down further than they needed to be, which was borderline annoying. But Stephen does not have the breath to complain, because now that his erection is free, he feels hot puffs of air directly on his sensitive skin, and it makes him wince. His fingers sink into dark hair as Tony begins kissing his shaft and balls – it’s good, but it’s not nearly enough, not even the tongue circling his cock’s tip is.

Stephen cries quietly, and Tony hears him. In an instant, he puts his mouth over Stephen’s cock in one single, slick motion, until it meets the roof of his mouth. It’s hot and wet and soft, and Stephen moans loudly at this all-new sensation that’s so much better than just the thumb, so much better than all his fantasies combined. Quite frankly, it might just be the best he’s ever felt.

His fingers cramp as Tony starts moving up and down, toes curl, moans break away. A gentle hand on his arm signals him to relax, to unbend, and when Stephen does, his body feels even better. His hips buck up, but Tony compensates perfectly.

“S-sorry,” Stephen utters and caresses the head gently, but his hands are shaking from pleasure. Each time his cock hits Tony’s gums, he cries, and it’s even worse/better/divine when he hollows his cheeks, when he pauses so that Stephen can breathe. When he shows how much he cares.

Stephen finally comes when Tony’s tongue starts circling the tip as he blows him, when he sucks so hard Stephen fears it’s going to make all life ooze out of him. Tony pumps his cock until he has swallowed every last drop of pleasure – and even him swallowing feels good.

Stephen pants and lets Tony climb back on top of him. His limbs feel tired. “You all right?” Tony asks, voice soft and rough at the same time, and strokes his face. Stephen bites his bottom lip and nods. “Good,” Tony answers and pecks his chin. He smells like sex.

Stephen feels so soft with bliss and joy from his orgasm that it actually takes concentration to prop himself and Tony up so that they sit upright again. He kisses Tony’s cheek with gentle lips, and then, panting, Stephen rubs along his clothed erection through the thin fabric, and Tony winces, whimpers, writhes. “No,” he breathes, “no… I’m gonna cum. In your car. Onto your seat.”

Who cares? Stephen is not going to not ‘repay the fucking favor’. “Tell me when you’re about to and I’ll swallow,” Stephen whispers into his ear. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a long time, and his voice is all rough, but it seems to do the trick.

“Oh, _God…!_ Fine then, you hotspur, give it to me.” Tony props himself up wearily to kiss Stephen, but it’s actually just two tongues sliding against each other. Is this what sperm tastes like? Stephen moans. He already came, but this still feels so good. Tony’s throbbing erection beneath his hands _feels good_. Everything about this does.

Stephen pulls down Tony’s pants just as Tony had done with his before (because as it had turned out, the lower the better) to work his cock in a loose fist. All of a sudden, he is painfully aware that he has no fucking clue what he’s doing, so he just continues kissing Tony’s face and neck as his hand starts moving up and down, playing with his wrist, hopefully at the right speed.

“Oh, _fuck_ …”

Yep, seems to work.

Over time, Stephen adds a second hand to fondle Tony’s balls and occasionally rubs his thumb on top of the tip, slick with precum that allows him to quicken his strokes; he bends and stretches to reach every part of Tony’s body with his lips, although there’s next to no strength left in them. Tony seems to like it anyway, because all of his talking has stopped, only sighs fall from his parted lips, red, wet, brown eyes widened in pleasure. His body is flushed and glistening with sweat, heaving slowly up and down. Cock shining pink in Stephen’s hand, twitching as he rubs his thumb across the slit, and Tony moans. Gorgeous.

Stephen realizes too late he’s staring. “You’re a sight to behold,” he breathes, making Tony cry out quietly. He presses his eyes shut and curses, and then he asks, “Will you stop teasing now?”

A spark of mischief travels across Stephen’s face. “Will I?” he teases.

“Oh my fucking God,” Tony lets out and starts fucking Stephen’s hand. They chuckle quietly, and Stephen speeds up his movements, all the while trying to make Tony moan again by adjusting the movements of his hand, like finding the right frequency on a radio. Tony doesn’t even have to warn him, he bends down to suck him off right on time, which causes Tony to make the most beautiful sounds.

His sperm tastes the same, and it’s a lot to swallow, but Stephen can manage. They collapse on top of each other and need some time to rearrange their pants. Despite the hot air and steamed-up windows, they need the red blanket to warm themselves up – now it really came in handy, and Stephen is grateful it is here. Their breaths steady after a few minutes.

At first it’s just due to their position, but then Stephen decides to deliberately lay his hand on Tony’s heart to silently comfort him. Even if he hasn’t done everything right, he at least wants to cuddle properly. Tony is not going anywhere.

“Y’know,” Tony says with nonchalance, “if you’d like a résumé other than ‘you’re really cute and damn sexy when you cum’ or ‘incredibly altruistic’, it would be that you’re excellent with your hands.” He takes the left one in his own hands to look at it with fascination.

“What luck, considering they will operate brains sometime in the future,” Stephen chuckles, but not without pride in his voice.

“Pff, brains,” Tony repeats mockingly and drops his hands. “You neurosurgeons are all the same.”

Stephen shifts, smiling as he closes his eyes. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“Credit where credit is due.”

“No, I mean…” Stephen snuggles up closer to him. “For everything. For _this_. I’ve never been with a man before, but it was absolutely wonderful.”

Tony smiles. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Which is why I wanna thank you for it. And for the car, needless to say. It’s gonna feel weird when I hand you the money _after this_.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Tony looks around. “You can shower here in my place, we need to get your Lambo back on track anyway. Let me get my dustbuster real quick. And, oh, we should probably clean the windows, and open them, too. Fresh air.”

Stephen’s mouth twitches. “Fresh with oil and cigarettes,” he snarks lovingly.

“Hey,” Tony complains and looks at Stephen with an intrigued grin. “You’re being sassy, Doctor Strange, do you know that? Doctor Strangelove. Do you Love the Bomb, sir?”

Stephen chuckles at this random joke and pulls him closer again. “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love my Local Car Mechanic,” he says joyfully. Drops roll down the window.

“Hm,” Tony says with a shrug, “I can live with that.” He sniffs. “Hey, I mean it,” he adds and makes Stephen look up into his big, brown eyes. He caresses his chin. “I mean it,” he repeats, “I’d like to have this thing. With you. It may be too soon, but – Let’s try it, hm?”

Stephen all but melts.

“And don’t say ‘buy me dinner first’, I bought you doughnuts already,” Tony warns, but Stephen just chuckles and cuddles him even tighter, ear always on his naked, sweaty chest. “I’d love to try,” he says with a smile. He can hear his heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Doctor Strange’s powers, I really do, but this AU prompt was very fun to write even without the magic ✧*:･٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
> 
> Huge thank you to my artist partner for working on this pinch hitting project with me, I hope you like it! And thank you to everyone reading ♡


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